A Thousand Years of Happiness
by onescape
Summary: Youko, Keiki and the moments that add up to Sekishi's long, long reign. A series of vignettes, with continuity. Feedback would be really great.
1. Meeting

Disclaimer: I love, love, love The Twelve Kingdoms. Sadly, not mine. But thank you for letting me borrow.

Author's Note: Youko and Keiki - I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist and not try to fill in the blanks, simply because we see so little of their interaction, while the relationship is practically the basis of the series and of quite a few of the books. This will be a drabble/vignette series, most parts of which are already written. I'd be really grateful for some feedback on the characters.

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**I. Meeting**

by onescape

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Before they meet, there is a shadow in his heart that bears the shape of Yo-ou.

Keiki is young and there are still many things he does not know, but he is not naive. He is aware of that black, ugly thing that eclipses his every thought and blinds him to the possibility of finding _another_.

To examine it would mean to relive the unnamed yearning for the sight of her pretty face, a child's face, the way she looked when he laid his eyes on her from his kneeling position at her feet - she was the first. He truly believed (and did not falter, until much, much later) that she would be the only one. Even after that child's visage twisted and contorted in front of his very eyes, marked horribly by fear and bitterness, when her eyes lost their lustre no matter the beauty treatments, when her innate kindness towards people turned into a singular love turned into all-consuming desperation, her heart hollowed out and filled with ashes, because the one she wanted did not want it - even with hands speckled by blood, she was_ his_, and he was hers. She was dying and he was dying with her.

Then the thread between them spun, tightened and snapped in the blink of an eye. He was left alone to live and observe his failure, now but a stumbling half.

He carries that shadow inside of him, nurtures and cherishes it; it is the only bit of her left. His mind shies away from the mere thought of another's face replacing Yo-ou's.

Yet his travels take him constantly further and beyond, while he drowns his grief in mindless flight. He does not realize what it is (because it feels, surprisingly or perhaps not, different the second time) until, in his daze, he has crossed the Outer Sea and the shoku has spit him out by the shore of a strange city shrouded in screeching metal and blinking lights.

"It _is _you."

Chalk dust floats through shafts of sunlight in that classroom in Hourai, igniting like tiny falling stars, and a terrible slowness of perception settles over him (despite the imminent danger, despite the shadow in his heart). His world comes to a halt, overwhelmed by a sudden sense of peace. His feet are firmly anchored to the foreign, dirty floors, his mind clean and sharp like a blade, such a staggering change from the bleak aimlessness of being _without_.

Outside heavy-bellied clouds are boiling slowly in a mottled sky, an incarnation of the threat hanging over both of their heads. Yet when light seeps through here and there, it bathes the cowering form of the girl golden and precious, her hair red as sunset, her limbs shaking, mouth open in a trembling _oh_ of shock.

_Shu-jou._

He thinks – for a split moment, but very clearly – that he has never seen anything so beautiful, or dangerous. (He has, of course, and the thought itself leaves a taste of doubt in his mouth.)

To kneel in front of her is the most natural act in existence. His body mellows and folds, brought to ground by the mere presence of this girl, guided by instinct that is ages old and indisputable. There is a click, a sigh, a motion in his being not unlike when a finely-carved piece of a puzzle falls into its place on the board.

But that is merely a beginning.

And they have no time.

There will be no leisure to simply look and etch the other into their respective minds and hearts; no such luxury. It does not matter – they are still ruler and kirin, and as such they are inseparably bound, no matter the circumstance.

(Or so he thinks.)

Long before they meet, she does not recognize her own reflection; not in the mirror above the sink in a bathroom swathed in blinding artificial light, not in the eyes of the people she calls classmates and family.

Nakajima Youko is a daughter, is a student, a friend, a girl. She walks, she talks, she helps out, she does her homework. She is a wishbone, flexible and pliant, ready to bow to someone's will. There are so many of her - her greatest care is to keep them apart and keep herself away from groups of people, because they confuse her.

Then the air around her howls when the windows implode and throw a barrage of shards, as tiny as pins and as long as her forearm, against her. The gale blows over, crackling over desks and people; caressing her face.

Youko feels wide awake and certain that she will die; a curious combination. Her eyes open to the man before her, so tall, so strange, with his elaborate robes and inhuman face.

It is no big surprise after all that it is not her face that is reflected by the blade of the sword she's given.

She is a blank slate.

What does 'I accept' mean?


	2. Tilt

Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing the sexy, sexy playground. (Sorry, can't help it.)

Author's note: Apologies for the delay. I fought this one in a hard way (but good). The continuity is more emotional than story-oriented.

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**II. Tilt**

by onescape

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(Keiki. You always say too little.)

To deal with this new Queen has been a constant balancing act, the threat of failure always imminent at the edge of Keiki's consciousness. There is a thread that connects him to his Queen at all times, delicate and invisible, that he believes must be kept at a certain length to remain dormant and unharmed. Unharmful, too.

Not too close - he tends to feel their affinity too keenly sometimes, and fears the day she might, as well. She must find her own way first, she must learn to stand on her own and only then will she be able to stand with him; not the other way around. She is always, always on his mind as it is; Keiki pledges to himself not to watch over her every hour of the day, even though it unsettles him, knowing she is somewhere in the palace, so close, yet out of his sight. (The Queen finds his behaviour curiously skittish around herself; but then, what does she know of kirin? Very little; and Keiki does seem to be somewhat_ special. _She learns to think of him as a lingering shadow in the hallways, one that appears only when she is messing up badly.)

Not too far - because she is young and brash and she knows so little; their connection is strung too tight for him to bear and he _needs _her like he needs air to breathe. Keiki tentatively offers a visit to Mt. Hou preceding her blessing by the heavens. Just the two of them for once, they take walks through the places of his youth, and he lets Lady Gyokurou tell her stories of the things he cannot speak himself. He watches her from the corner of his eye, allowing himself a measure of closeness for once; flooded with quiet joy in the rare moments when her face mirrors understanding. (The Queen remembers their trip to Mt. Hou fondly, yet with mild confusion, since it does not match anything she thought she knew about her kirin. She learns to regard it as something of a character blip - it was the day of her coronation, after all.)

He wavers between self-indulgence and reproach; a natural fascination and apprehension driven by logic. This act requires all of Keiki's strength and concentration. So much so, that for months on end he does not notice much of anything else.

"Did you know - " A pause. "But you must not tell anyone else. Promise me."

"Of course, Your Highness."

"I told you not to call me - nevermind." Hushed, secretive. "Did you know that, supposedly, kirin in the presence of their ruler feel a bliss that cannot be suppressed, or resisted? That _they cannot stay away_?"

"Oh. No, I didn't, of course. And you were told this by - ?"

"Indirectly, yes. It certainly doesn't look that way, does it?"

"Youko."

"Yes?"

"That does seem like an awfully private thing to share. Especially for the taiho."

"You really think so?" Uncertainty colours her voice.

Chiding: "You-ko! It _does_ sound very much like when someone falls in love, doesn't it."

"That's ludicrous." A sigh. "Well, perhaps I shouldn't have..." A short, startled laugh follows. This is utterly unconnected, he knows, but Keiki can't help but feel the sound resonate within, can't rid himself of the warmth that her laughter, however terrible, brings forth without fail. "Rakushun, how would _you_ know?"

An unexpected silence.

"I do." Unapologetic.

In the crushing moments of even more silence that follow, Keiki accepts that this is the punishment for his lack of control. He should have passed that door and not looked back. Now any semblance of intimacy he could have conjured up in his mind is no more. Now he _knows_ and the knowledge burns bright and painful in his mind and makes him feel weaker inside than the stench of blood surrounding his Queen constantly. Instinct presses him to flee that place, and this time he does submit.

Those in the room do not hear his steps measure the hallway in a manner more frantic than ever.

(Afterwards, Youko is somewhat alarmed by the renewed distance between them - she truly thought things were looking up after the rebellion in Wa Province. Feeling somewhat guilty, though not entirely clear on _why, _she prods and inquires doggedly for weeks, and is baffled by his insistence that, for once, it has nothing to do with her qualities as a ruler, since she knows Keiki couldn't lie to her to save his life.)


End file.
